


Eppur Si Muove

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: 5 Things, Birthday, Gen, Pre-Reboot, West Wing Title Project, what even are comics timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: "You mean we're birthday twins, Alf?""I daresay we are, Master Jason."
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd
Comments: 26
Kudos: 178





	Eppur Si Muove

**Author's Note:**

> Upon learning that [**Alfred and Jason share a birthday**](https://heroicadventurists.tumblr.com/post/187073378283/what-would-they-do-without-alfred), Lembeau and I both thought, "there should be fic about that." *g* What even are comics timelines??? Written for the [**West Wing title project**](https://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/386778.html). Happy birthday to Jason and Alfred!

### 13 and 53.

Master Bruce still pretends he doesn't know when Alfred's birthday is, and delights in ambushing him with cake and gifts on a randomly selected day every year. Until he brings Jason home, and Jason reveals that his birthday is the same as Alfred's, albeit many years later.

"You mean we're birthday twins, Alf?" Jason asks around bites of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

Alfred has never heard that particular term before, but he replies, "I daresay we are, Master Jason," and allows himself to show the tiniest hint of a smile before he turns back to putting away groceries.

"Cool!"

Master Bruce is determined to give the boy everything he's missed out on and Alfred has to remind him to pare it back, because Jason is still easily overwhelmed by the nonchalance with which Master Bruce spends money, and whether he is a deserving recipient of that largesse when so many others are in need.

Alfred's gift is less extravagant but no less heartfelt. He begins teaching Jason to cook, simple meals at first, the kinds of things thirteen-year-old could manage on his own if necessary (the kinds of things a thirty-one-year-old butler could manage when guardianship of an eight-year-old was suddenly thrust upon him).

The day of their shared birthday dawns hot and blue, the eighth day of the heatwave that's got all of Gotham in its grip. Even with the awning extended over the patio, the day will be brutally hot. Alfred is in the throes of rare indecision—while Master Bruce has chosen to barbecue (the only manner of cooking with which he can be trusted), they could move the meal itself indoors, where it's cool and shady. Just this once, he could bend the rules about bathing suits at the table, especially if he sets up in the solarium rather than the dining room. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. "Happy Birthday," Jason says, loitering the kitchen doorway, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Happy Birthday to you as well, Master Jason." He smiles. "You're up early."

"Got a gift for you. C'mon." He tips his head towards the dining room, where Alfred rarely joins them (though he has done so more since Jason came to live with them than he has since Master Richard was a boy).

Master Bruce, sleepy but smiling, is standing at the head of the table, on which is set a three-tiered server containing danish and scones.

"The danish are from Becker's, but I made the scones," Jason says. He ducks his head, suddenly shy. "Babs helped."

"My dear boy," Alfred starts and then stops briefly, overcome. "Thank you."

"Have a seat," Jason says. "I'll boil water for tea." He dashes back through the kitchen door, leaving Alfred blinking in surprise. 

"He wanted to do something for you," Master Bruce says with a one-shouldered shrug. "So did I." He puts a hand on Alfred's shoulder and gives him a light squeeze. "Happy Birthday, Alf."

There's a metallic bang from the kitchen and then a shouted, "I'm all right!" from Jason.

"I'd better go oversee tea," Bruce says with a small smile, leaving Alfred alone to gather himself.

Jason spends the long, hot afternoon in the pool, and then gorges on homemade chili dogs. His eyeslids are drooping and his upper lip is smeared with whipped cream when he exclaims, "This is the best birthday ever!"

"You know, Master Jason, I'm inclined to agree."

### 16 and 56.

Jason would have been sixteen today. Alfred doesn't celebrate. 

### 19 and 59.

Alfred rarely second-guesses himself. Once a decision is taken, one should follow through and then deal with the consequences, rather than hesitating and potentially making everything worse.

However, as he drops his keys, wallet, and cufflinks into the kidney-shaped bowl at the metal detector inside Blackgate Prison, he has some serious reservations about the choice he's made.

Too late to back out now, he tells himself, and walks through the metal detector and then several gates that buzz and clang as he passes through. At least his name will not be in the prison's visitor's log; he is here in the guise of Jason's lawyer, a necessary if distasteful subterfuge.

Jason is waiting in the small, cinderblock interrogation room, chained hand and foot. He's slumped over the table, his hair lank and unwashed, in a creased orange jumpsuit. His skin is pale, and the circles beneath his eyes look like bruises.

Alfred waits until the guard has left before clicking the device Ms. Gordon had loaned him; it will disable any cameras and microphones for eight minutes, which is likely six minutes more than this visit will last.

"Master Jason."

Jason blinks at him slowly, and Alfred is reminded of a lion dozing in the sun—dangerous, but uninterested in proving it right now.

"Alfred." Though his voice is much deeper than it was the last time they spoke, the wariness is sadly familiar. "I didn't realize you were practicing law now."

Alfred settles himself in the metal chair across from Jason and folds his hands on the tabletop. "Happy Birthday, Master Jason."

"Oh, it's my birthday? You bring me a cake with a file in it, Alfie?" There's a mocking twist to Jason's grin.

Alfred ignores it and the pain it causes in his heart. "I wanted you to know that, as regrettable a place as this is to spend our birthday, I will never regret that you are alive to celebrate it. It is the greatest gift we've ever received."

Jason blinks again, in surprise this time, his expression unguarded and soft for a moment before that wariness returns. His mouth puckers as though he's tasted something sour, and he nods once, muscle jumping in his jaw. "You're probably the only one."

"Whatever your differences with Master Bruce—"

Jason snorts incredulously.

"Whatever your differences are," Alfred overrides him, "know that you are his son and you always will be." He keeps his hands clasped tightly, refusing to give into the temptation to reach out and grasp Jason's hand. "I live in hope that next year, we will celebrate together."

"Don't waste your time, Alf. That's never gonna happen."

Alfred stands. He resists the urge to tug at his jacket. "Where there's life, there's hope, Master Jason."

He's at the door, raising his hand to knock for the guard, when Jason says, "Happy Birthday, Alf."

Alfred doesn't turn around but he does bow his head. "Thank you, Master Jason."

### 21 and 61.

The raucous sounds of splashing carry through even to the kitchen. Alfred is pleased to have a houseful of guests—a houseful of children, even if they are, for the most part, adults now—to celebrate. It is a gift he has been silently hoping for, and the joy of it threatens to overwhelm him on occasion.

"Come on, Alfie," Jason says, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen. "It's our birthday. You have to let other people do all the work."

"As much as I trust Master Bruce not to ruin dinner on the grill, a meal is made of more than meat, Master Jason."

Jason shrugs. "Eh, that's debatable."

"I know I taught you better than that. And Master Damian is a vegetarian."

"Oh right, that's what those veggie burgers were about."

Jason joins him in the kitchen, tentatively at first, but soon they are working together side by side the way they did so many years ago. Jason fills small bowls with pickles and peppers and other various garnishes, and sets out the various condiments and sauces while Alfred finishes up the side dishes before pouring them into various serving bowls.

"Master Jason—" Alfred begins and then stops. His heart is full to overflowing and it makes the words stick in his throat. 

Jason smiles and picks up the tray. "I know, Alf. Happy Birthday."

Alfred follows him out to the patio, where they're both welcomed with gleeful shouts of happy birthday. 

This, Alfred thinks, is the best birthday ever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Eppur Si Muove](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009979) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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